Does this look like vacation?

I am fairly sure I don’t even need to write a lot.  

We are on vacation.  

But really???

Hashtag: life; reality; parenting; humor

No rest for the wicked…

Oh, wait.  I mean the mommies (smile and wink).

Greetings from La Jolla sunny California!

When sanity restoration begins and you already start crying…

I have been LONGING…literally LONGING for sanity for the last several years while my head has been spinning wildly in all directions except on.

And then it happened two days ago.  I took a shower—door unlocked, of course and open, while the two littles were awake and propped in front of the TV.

The thing is…I didn’t rush.  I washed my hair.  Shaved my legs…both don’t normally happen in the midst of my “ARE THE KIDS TURNING ON THE OVEN AND BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE AND RUNNING WITH SCISSORS” showers that normally take place.  One definitely has to go.  Mostly the shaving legs.  Good thing I live in Europe 😉

It was amazing.  And I didn’t feel stressed.  I occasionally would shout out, “ARE YOU OKAY????”  To which they would respond, “We’re OKAY!” And then I would enjoy the next moment of sanity…

And just as I was beginning to get nostalgic for the moments when I had to worry and live in paranoia with the “I CANT LIVE WITHOUT MOMMY” seconds that occupy my every waking moment, two littles come running in shouting, “I WANNA SHOWER WITH MOMMY!!!!!”

Clothes are stripped.  Diapers are stripped.  And I finish rinsing my hair just in time to hop out and throw two naked bottoms in—albeit crying naked bottoms—saying stuff like, “BUT I WANNA SHOWER WITH YOU, MOMMA!”

And as much as I enjoyed my freedom and sanity for those 5 minutes in the shower—I enjoyed hearing those words even more.  Because those were the longest 5 minutes of my life—knowing that my sanity was on its way to being restored—and freedom would soon again be mine.

The freedom I have been screaming for the last many years—is on the horizon—and now I’m so sad about it.

MOMMYHOOD.

Man it’s a crazy conundrum of nonsensical emotions that keeps me screaming, crying, laughing, hugging, or spinning.

AND I WANT THEM ALL TO STAY THE SAME…

Yet I want to shower in peace, too.

Sometimes there is clearly no winner in the mom game 😉

So Forty!

Like I am so overwhelmingly 40 that someone could write a book about 40 based upon my life.

I bloat—and automatically 3 people ask if I’m pregnant.

I say—“No.  I am not pregnant.  Just 40.”

One kind man looked confused and said, “Thirty?”

And I said, “No, 40…And I am not having any more  (bold and underline this, please) children.”

He went on to tell me I still have time for one more…

I went on to tell him a thing or two…(Okay—nice things 😉 ).

I have two small kids and a 10 year old.  The ten year old is an angel because she can shower and brush her teeth all alone.

The others—it’s like, “What’s that?  You need to go on the toilet AGAIN????  Aren’t you still in diapers??????????”  And then I remember that he is officially 4.  So I follow him into the toilet and wipe his little bum after he goes number 2.

The last is like “NOOOOOOO!!!!!!  I do it!”  And if you enter her presence without her permission, she is like “THIS IS MY ROOM!!!!!!”  And if she was not so RIDICULOUSLY the cutest thing walking this earth, it would just not be so cute (smile smile wink wink)  Okay, okay…It’s pretty typical 2 and cute.

And then there are those that days that my little son brings me cookies and I ask, “Did you eat lunch?” And he’s like “No, my tummy is not hungry for food.”  So I open his cookies and send him on his way just so that I can have a spare moment alone to eat my own cookies.

Friends…I am SOOOOO 40!  Beyond, totally 40.

And while I mostly handle it fine—I realize that the babcia in me is starting to sneak out (grandma for those that don’t know what babcia means)…And then I realize that these are not my grandkids but my kid-kids.  I am suppose to be MONITORING their sugar intake —NOT increasing it 😉

Oh me oh my oh my oh me!!!!!

I am Brooke.  And I.AM.FORTY.

Can I take a nap, please?????

Happy Mother’s Day #failblog to Me!

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME, MOMMA!” My 3-year-old son shouted at me today.

Yes.  On Mother’s Day.

The sacred day for Mothers.

Why would a 3-year-old shout that he is not understood?

Well, for starters, his 2-year-old sister slightly colored on his Spiderman coloring picture and I told him it was going to be okay.

I even cut around the pencil scratches she made…

But, apparently, it was NOT OKAY!

I don’t understand…

And then he wanted crunchy toast for lunch.

So I made it.

Buttered bread, into the oven, voile!  Out comes crunchy toast.

But NOOOOOOOOO!

He wants the bread in the oven first to get crunchy…THEN…And, apparently, only THEN…can I butter his toast.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME, MOMMA!!!”

Yes, Maxwell.  This is where you are 100 million 25 billion 49 quadrillion 237 gazillion correct.  I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU!

Happy Mother’s Day to me?????

Absolutely!

Because just when all sanity was lost, a dear friend showed up delivering flowers on behalf of my husband who is 1 trillion kilometers away…

Flowers…on a day when I was LOSING.  Like BIG TIME!

Flowers…for me!

Winds of change…This surprise uber lovely visit shuffled all children AND crying 3-year-olds outside where they began to ride, run, and play in the great outdoors.

Lunch still untouched—but, hey!  Who needs lunch????

Friends…I don’t understand my kids.

My 10-year-old…A mystery!

My 3-year-old…A puzzle!

My 2-year-old…A NO Monster!

If this was baseball, I would be STRUCK out!  Out of that Old Ball Game!

But that’s the thing about mommies.  We don’t strike out.

Well, technically, we MAY strike out…BUT WE DON’T leave home plate.  We make sure that they pitch it again and again and again…hoping for a hit!

Which sometimes we actually make.

The crack of the bat.  The connection of the ball.

We run and run and run…And round those bases so that we can bat again.

Recently I had posted a picture of my 2-year-old trying to escape out the front door to find daddy (who is a trillion miles away).  Her diaper sagging.  I called her #soggybottom.  My soggy bottom baby.  And I captioned the photo: Because sometimes we fail at parenting.

But then an angel wrote and said, “It’s not a parenting fail…It’s well hydrated!”

That’s when it hit me…

I didn’t fail.  I succeeded.  She was well hydrated.  That meant she wasn’t dehydrated.  Which meant, I could avoid taking her to the doctor for fluids.

Complete victory!

My daughter was well-watered.  Forget the soggy bottom baby trying to escape.  At least she was trying to escape hydrated!

More power for her long, long journey!

I absolutely LOVED how that perspective changed my entire view of the situation.

And, so, I’ll leave you with the same advice my mom used to give me when I’d fall, “Hop up and get going again!  You are fine.”

Dear Moms out there…

You’re not failing.  You are hydrating your children.  Forget all of the details in between…

And, when you need it, remember the words HOP UP!  GET GOING!  YOU ARE FINE!

Because you are…

Happy Mother’s Day to you!

A masterpiece of work in progress!

“He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it…” Philippians 1:6

When You Don’t Want Your Children To Grow Up

“Now, Maxie?” Josephine shouted.

“Not yet, GoGo!” Max responded.

They were sitting on two little roller coasters that you push with your feet, waiting one for the other to go down the little slope.

And, because her big hero brother said “Not yet” she waited and said, “Okay, Maxie…”

Then he would count, “One, two, three, GO!”

Their chubby little feet would paddle the ground and they would begin the slight decline down the coaster to soar onto the open floor.

Smiles and joy and squeals accompanying their little rides.

Then one would shout, without hesitation, “Let’s do it again!”

And off they’d push their cars to the top to begin again.

Friends—my two Littles are utterly exhausting.  I’m like super tired.  And they fight.  And they roll on the ground.  And they don’t like their food to touch—or when I cut their toast the wrong way.

My eyes are held open by VERY strong coffee…

But it’s ALL so worth it.

And my stomach is already nostalgic for the future loss of my Littles.

My decade daughter, as she calls herself, was once my Little…and I enjoyed every minute of it (let’s not relish in her own toddler tantrums that also split my hairs 😉 )…

She, in all of her innocent wonder, was my sunshine on any cloudy day.  And, believe me, in Poland there are a LOT of cloudy days.

Now she’s the epitome of beauty and grace.  She is tall and slender and lovely with a touch of awkward.  And growing.  She will, without any doubt in my mind, be a beautiful, successful, creative, and compassionate young lady—I already see that in her.

But it does not mean I don’t miss my Sweet Adelyne that used to skate on flour and make tea parties for her daddy with all of her dollies.

She has phased into young lady—that, very thankfully, still likes to occasionally play dolls, too!

And as my little miracle approaches his fourth birthday, I think.  No, I know that I am already missing him.

My toddler, naked bottom Max—without a care in the world.

Can I squish him into Little-ness forever?

Probably not—but I capture every moment of each of our days—the good and bad—on the reel of my on-going memory maker—the core of my heart…because I know that, as they grow, I will enjoy each new phase—but it will not mean that I will not miss the last one.

Josephine asked Maxie if he was ready—and he said “Not yet.”

Maxie—I am not ready, yet, either.

Please don’t grow.

But just like they paddled their feet and took off, I know what fate awaits me…

Their wild ride.

***

Photo credit:  Inga Rurek

boy mom…fail????

i am a mom of one boy.  he is 3—nearly 4.  here is the current conversation in my home between my 3-yr-old boy and his 10-year-old sister:

“max—stop pretending to pee on me!”

“MOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!  max is pretending to pee on me!”

i giggle just a bit…mom fail.

10 year old again, “mom, did your brother pretend to pee on you????”

“probably and i survived.”

so then 10 year old logic tries to kick in with the 3 year old brother:

“max—you can’t really pee on me because you are wearing underwear and that means the pee will go in your underwear.”

3 year old ignores his sister…

THE NEXT THING I KNOW…

“mom,” says the 3 year old, “see that beetle!”  it appears he has moved on from harassing his sister.

i look…”sure max.”

“no, that beetle..”  he points again.

in the itty bitty crevice of our home, i spy a beetle.

“kill it mom, we don’t want a biting bug.”

i kill the nasty looking beetle that only his boy eyes apparently could spy and give him the killed beetle in tissue, it’s limbs sticking out, and say, “go throw it away.”

no hesitation.  grabs the dead bug and throws it away.

the next thing i know, “more PEZ in my ninja turtle, mom…” he says bringing me his candy, where he then proceeds to climb on my lap while i am literally typing this and says, “YEE HAW cowboy!”

and now, as i finish this last sentence, he is curled up into my lap with his head against my shoulder sweet as syrup…

wait, i take it back.  he is now pretending to eat my computer and encouraging the 2 year old to do the same.

they are making monster noises with some snorting.

this is my life in the last 3 minutes.

no wait..they are now blowing raspberries at each other.  i am wiping the spit off of the table.

oh wait.  he is back to kissing my shoulder.

no…now he’s dressing like a fireman.  and my 2 year old is now on the table.

SOOOOOOO…

so, my 10 year old may wonder why i laugh when my 3 year old is a boy being a boy…

it’s because i can’t keep up with anything else.

😉

***

okay, seriously…i have just lost my coffee in the last 2.3 seconds.  like it has disappeared somewhere into thin air.  the physical cup.  and this is how the ending of my attempt to type this blog looks… 

HAVE A GREAT DAY, FRIENDS!!!!

Italy…

I don’t have one sick kid.

I don’t have two sick kids.

I have three sick kids…

And…

As much as I love them—

My sis, sil, and girlfriends are coming in T-4 days.

And momma is going to Italy.

Good luck, Daddy????

When Daddies Are Magicians!

 

Richard is a magician. He literally can pull anything out of our children’s ears—including matchbox cars and Barbie dolls. It brings about GREAT excitement in our home.

Problem: now Josephine, my 2-year-old, thinks that whenever she can’t find anything, all she needs to do is RUN up to me and say, “It’s in my ear, Momma!” Where she then tilts her head to the side in great expectation that I shall be able to pull out said missing item from her ear 😉

Daddies—aren’t they the best???!!!

Dear Dirt. I quit.

Dear Dirt,

I mean it this time.

I quit.  I really do.

It’s not enough that I vacuumed and cleaned the 1 million and 1 game pieces on the floor—that’s after feeding my kid a great lunch while I ate bread with butter.

It’s not enough that I loaded the dish washer and started it.

And got the baby down for a nap.

It’s not enough that I emptied the trash and the recycles and swept the mud room.

It’s not enough that I shoveled the coal and made sure our home stays warm.

YOU…

You devilish fiend keep coming back to hunt me down and destroy me!

I cleaned the room for the naught—because there are still crumbs in the carpet that I JUST can’t vacuum up.

I loaded the dishwasher, WHY?

Because now my floor has water all over it—WHEN did we even get a leak in the water hose?

I emptied the trash…REALLY?  Silly me!

Because those dogs—those dogs found their way through the trash gate and proceeded to strew ALL of it over the front lawn.  ALL.

Did I mention ALL???

Yes, Dirt.

I give up.

Now, my two toddlers are taking every toy imaginable out to play while I am cowering in the corner typing this LOVE LETTER to you.

Which, you can probably tell by now, is NOT a love letter to you.

So, Dirt.

You win.

I lose.

And now please come collect the children, the dirty dishes, the dogs, and the laundry…

These are the spoils of your victory.

I will still be cowering…hiding…in the corner until you come.

Honking will suffice—I’ll throw all culprits out the door and lock it, so there will be nowhere else to go but straight to you.

Love,

Me

(You KNOW who I am)

Peter Pan’s Shadow

(Source of Photo)

Remember that rascally shadow of Peter Pan’s?  The one that Peter has to chase…

Well, I was in the kitchen when I heard a bunch of “NO!” coming from my husband’s office (which is right next to the kitchen).  I looked in and saw my little 2-year-old, Josephine, standing on her daddy’s office couch trying to get rid of this stranger that was invading her space…

This pesky thing called her shadow.

It was so divinely cute that I hoped she would continue to play with her shadow until I found my phone and could record even a moment.

She did not disappoint and continued to try and persuade the shadow to leave, play hide and seek with it, and eventually extend her friendship to her shadow…

I love living through the eyes and experiences of my Littles.  Every day is a new day for new discovery!

Cheers to being more tired than I could possibly imagine—and yet happier than the birds in spring!

***

(Apparently I published quite the NON G-rated version of Peter Pan’s shadow earlier 😉   Sorry.  Picture has been deleted.  Hopefully forever.  I shall see.  I am not too cyber savvy).